Harmony
by Lady of The Wind Dweller
Summary: Merlin is tired of being made fun of because of his gangly appearance, lack of coordination and fighting skills. Thus, he decides to change that, managing to reshape his Destiny in a way no one would have thought posible, along the way.
1. Chapter 1

**Yeah..this is my first fanfic. I mean, the first fic that I decided to finish, because I have at least six unfinished stories and plots, in a folder, that I've never posted because I'm unsure. This idea came to because I'm tired of seeing Merlin so clumsy with physical activities..I want him to be a bamf in fighting with his body and sword, as well as with his magic. Hope you'll like it. I'll try to update quick enough, because I know how annoying it is to wait for a story to be updated.**

**Oh, another thing..this story is unbetaed * I don't even know if that's a real word* and English isn't my native language, so there's bound to be some mistakes..I encourage you to *gently* correct me because that can actually improve my English skills..just no flaming, please. I tried to find a beta but..it's too complicated and I don't know..Anyway,if someone is willing to be my beta, I'd be very grateful. Now, on to the story..:D**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

The only sounds that could be heard in the small clearing were the muffled hits and the heavy panting and grunting which accompanied each blow.

The sword felt heavy in his hands and he struggled to keep his numb arms lifted, and the blade – which seemed to almost possess a mind of its own – kept trying to slip from his sweaty, white-knuckled grip.

If his knuckles where white, then the rest of every visible patch of skin – and invisible too – was flushed a deep red, like the color of an over-ripe cherry, not to mention sweaty.

He never knew sweat could be so inconvenient. Sure, it was awful at best of times, damp, smelly and sticky..but he'd never before felt the sting of sweat drops in his eyes, or the salty, disgusting taste on his tongue.

In short, Merlin was miserable. Completely and thouroughly. His mind tried to gather its scattered bearings – between continuously lifting the sword and hacking away at the straw dummy – to try and remember why he'd ever thought this to be a good idea.

Needless to say, he failed.

The sun was just coming out from behind the forest that surrounded Camelot, luscious and already hot, hinting at the scorching heat that was sure to follow in two hours time.

Heat in which Merlin will have to complete his daily, monstrous pile of chores Arthur liked to saddle him with. He gave an extra loud grunt on his next hit, and then promptly proceeded in falling over, managing not to impale himself on the _blunt_ practice sword, only by a miracle.

"Come on, you lazy boy, get up, the art of the sword won't learn itself! "a strong voice croaked across the clearing, the owner of said voice smirking in a thoroughly satisfied manner, resting under the shade of a great oak.

Merlin whimpered.

**CHAPTER I **

In the beginning, Merlin never felt too bothered by the fact that he was so clumsy and lousy at anything that implied a physical effort.

Sure, he couldn't say he liked it when he tripped over thin air and planted his face on Camelot's cobblestones, but he always mentally shrugged, got up and went on his way.

It did help that he knew the reason why.

The fact of the matter was that, while his mother always disapproved and scolded him anytime he'd done magic while in Ealdor, she knew as well as him that it couldn't be helped. His magic was instinctual, eager to please him in any way, which meant that his body almost never could do even the most banal of things, like catching something, or even walking..spurring his legs, directing them..simply being there, ever-present in his body. A continuous, reassuring tingling.

Hunith always said that he was so graceful, whenever he allowed his magic to run his body in the privacy of their humble hut.

Well..his grace fell away, completely forgotten the moment he first stepped foot into Camelot. It left with a swooshing sound, the moment the executioner chopped Phil Collins' head, on that first day.

Merlin, at first, was never too bothered by Arthur's jabs at his body, either. Just like with the clumsiness, he simply rolled his eyes and called Arthur a 'burly prat' and that was that.

But, over time, the verbal blows began to sting and a part of Merlin's mind,that he _refused_ to acknowledge, wondered if it had anything to do with his..growing admiration, of the insensitive dollop-head.

It wasn't until recently that the problem became obsessive to Merlin. He'd catch himself lost in thought as he watched himself in Gaius' old, dirty and slightly cracked-in-places mirror.

He'd gaze at his body, always starting from his twig-like feet, imagining the knobbly knees underneath his shabby trousers. And then, he'd look at the equally shabby tunic which hanged of his thin, sharp shoulders and poky collarbones worse than if it would've had of a scarecrow.

He'd leave the face – twisted in disgust and shame, by now – for last, and his eyes would usually battle between glaring at his weird, skeletical cheekbones or at his jug-like, _bloody ears._

Because no matter how much Merlin tried to ignore it, his ears were and always would be a problem.

If at first, when he was younger, he'd had to suffer the bullying of the Ealdor knuckle-heads, now he had to suffer the amused glances of nobles, knights and even the commoners of Camelot. Gaius had once told him a quote, 'Never judge a book by its cover', but Merlin sneakily rewrote it in his head 'Never judge a Merlin by his ears', and he found that he'd always try desperately not to blurt it out, whenever he'd catch someone staring insistently at his ears.

For the love of Camelot, it seemed like they couldn't help themselves!

Gaius had caught him once, in one of his disgust filled analysis of his body, and he'd watched his mentor's eyebrow twitch slightly higher than usual. Merlin plastered a fake smile on his face and babbled about something irrelevant until he'd managed to distract Gaius' attention from the strange scene in which he stepped in.

There were times in which Merlin forgot about it, his mind taken with other things like, well, trying to keep Arthur alive, or his apprenticeship to Gaius – to his and Gaius' surprise, Merlin managed to learn something in all the years spent by the physician's side, thus becoming decent in the art of healing– and, finally, his job as a manservant to the prince.

But then, something, some tiny event would take place that would remind Merlin, once again that he didn't fit in. Not only because of his magic, but because of his appearance as well. And if he loved the first, the second he'd started to _hate_:

_Merlin was in a hurry. Arthur had – shockingly – gifted him with an earlier evening off, so the young man found himself hurrying down the corridors of the castle to reach his and Gaius' chambers._

_He hadn't eaten breakfast that morning because he'd woken up late, as usual, so he had to scurry off to the prince''s chamber to wake him up in time for him to have breakfast before the early council meeting began. Now, he felt ravenous. He could almost smell Gaius' cooking from the opposite end of the palace and his stomach gave a painful twinge._

_After passing a sharp corner, Merlin's steps faltered as he heard giggling and failed attempts at hushing said giggles from an unused guest chamber nearby. _

_Curious, Merlin carefully tip-toed to the wooden door and set himself against the cold stone wall, his right ear hovering almost-but-not-quite against the door._

_They were two female voices, almost familiar. Merlin tried to pinpoint the timbres before his eyes widened in recognition. They were Alicia, a red-headed chambermaid and Mary, a willow-like, brunette kitchenmaid._

_" – and he stammered awkwardly and went as red - as lady Angeline's lips." Mary struggled to say between girlish giggles while Alicia tutted, amused, trying to spur Mary on to stop laughing and tell the story._

_Merlin almost snorted at the thought of Lady Angeline. She was the daughter of an old nobleman who was known – and sneakily made fun of – by the ridiculous habit she had of painting her thin lips a vivid, bloody red. She put the Camelot-red cloaks of the knights to shame, ridiculing herself in the process._

_ Even the king sometimes shook his head with a baffled expression on his face, when passing the woman in the corridors._

_" – to the tips of his unfortunate ears." Mary finished her sentence, before the two girls howled with laughter, while, by the door, Merlin's blood froze in his veins._

_There was only one person Merlin knew with unfortunate ears. _

_Himself._

_He missed a big chunk of the conversation due to his stupor but then he shook his head and returned to listening in horrified fascination._

_" – I mean, I can't understand how _Gwen_ could've had had a crush on him. He looks like a skeleton all the time. Imagine trying to hug or, the Gods' forbid, trying to cuddle _that_, you'd get pierced by a bone." Alicia snapped, hissing Gwen's name._

_Merlin stared straight ahead while still listening. His mind was blank, altugh his brain twitched at the ridiculous thought of Gwen having ever had a crush on him._

_But while his mind couldn't function properly, his heart twitched spasmodically in pain at every hurtful word the two girls uttered._

_" By the Gods, you're right! Or ..." Mary struggled to say, giggling shrily, " Or swooning and needing to be carried. He'd never manage to get us off the ground!"._

_Alicia scoffed before saying snottily " Be serious, Mary, who'd swoon for _EAR_lin?" and soon the chamber had been filled with howls of laughter that echoed down the corridors of the palace and in Merlin's head, long after he stepped away._

_Gaius never mentioned Merlin's emabarassing red eyes that evening, or the fact that Merlin never touched his food, despite knowing clearly that his ward hadn't had breakfast that morning._

_Being old and wise, Gaius knew when to leave things alone as well as when to approach them._


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for the reviews, favs and for following me. I really appreciate it and I hope I won't disappoint you.**

**I don't own Merlin..unfortunately :D.**

**And I know nothing important really happened here, but I felt like I needed to write the events in this chapter, to prepare for the real action. Also, sorry for hurting our poor Merlin so, but I promise, things will get better for him..eventually :D.**

**Hope you like it.**

* * *

It was almost a week after that incident, when a quiet Merlin entered the prince's chambers, the breakfast tray wobbling precariously in his right hand.

To his surprise, Arthur wasn't spread in his bed like an offering to a God, he was up and leaning on his sturdy desk, instead, with his feet and arms crossed.

Arthur had a look in his eyes that, Merlin knew, meant only trouble and mostly for him.

"Sire, you're awake!" Merlin exclaimed, hesitantly stepping past Arthur and to the right, where a big dining table was seated, a couple of feet away from his bed.

He put the tray down – water sloshing out of the jug – and quickly turned back so he could face Arthur, absurdly fearing some sort of attack from the blonde. He almost rolled his eyes at his thoughts.

" Your observation skills are astounding, Merlin." the prince drawled as he casually made his way to the table and sat in his usual chair.

Merlin watched as Arthur bent over his plate, taking a bite of a sausage, and almost missed Arthur's gesturing for him to sit as well..maybe because he was too busy watching his prince lick the grease of his fingers.

"Come _on_, Merlin. You're slower than usual today." Arthur said between chewing.

Warily, Merlin sat down and Arthur pushed the tray so it was somehow in the middle.

"Take whatever you want." The prince took the bread and tore it, offering a half to his servant. "Say, Merlin, I was thinking.." Arthur continued conversationally.

"That's a first." Merlin quipped, trying to make sense of the awkward situation in which he found himself in. Although his..relationship..with Arthur had improved over the last months, especially after the whole ordeal with the troll, he didn't think they where at the level where he could sit and have breakfast with Arthur.

Arthur ignored his quipp and continued, in a calm, almost eager – but not eager, it wouldn't do for a prince to sound _eager_ – voice, "..that I can't remember the last time we've gone hunting, for the life of me. So, how about you be a good lad, and collect our provisions and everything else we need."

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me, Arthur!" Merlin groaned after hastily swallowing – and almost choking – a piece of cheese.

He couldn't believe the prat! He couldn't remember the last time they went on a hunting trip?! How in the bloody hell could that be, it was only three weeks ago.

Arthur raised his eyebrows imperiously as he took a big gulp of water,before slamming the cup on the table.

"I find that I am very much _ not_ kidding, _Mer_lin." the prince got up and went to attach his scabbard to his belt, ignoring Merlin's incredulous sputtering.

"And hurry up, will you? I can hear the prey calling to me." and with those barbaric words, Arthur went to inform his father of the impromptu hunting trip.

"Great, just great!" slumped over in his chair, Merlin wiped his face as if he could already feel the sweat, grime and blood on his face.

If Merlin 'accidentaly' dropped a half-eaten sausage on Arthur's fur covered, throne-like chair, well..nobody would know.

"See, Merlin? The perfect day for a good hunting trip! Now, if you could only keep that jabbering mouth shut, we might even catch some game." Arthur proclaimed boisterously from his perch atop his horse, no matter that Merlin wasn't, in fact, _jabbering_ this time. His – carefully thought, no doubt – quip was followed by the knights' snickers and Merlin wondered, sulkily, for a second, what would happen if he simply dug his feet into his horse's flank and rode off into the sunset, right here, right now.

It's been three hours since they've been gallivanting into the woods, and so far, thank all the Gods, nothing happened.

Even Arthur, as annoying as he still was to Merlin, had managed not to turn into a complete beast due to their ill luck in finding some prey.

Instead he had taken an unusual cheery attitude and kept talking at Merlin as if he'd decided to impersonate the warlock, seeing as Merlin was unusually silent.

His jokes and cajoling, however, were proving ineffective on Merlin's part – although the herd of sheep, sorry, the knights, kept laughing and snickering to get into the prince's good graces.

The truth was that Merlin was still upset about _the incident_. It become another obsession. He'd find time to himself just to stare out the windows of the castle, or out his tiny window in his room, and replay Alicia and Mary's words in his head.

He had them down to the timbre and volume.

He knew he was being stupid..and maybe Arthur was right, maybe he was a girl's petticoat after all. But he couldn't help it. He'd thought Mary was his friend.

He'd spoken to her all the time in the mornings, while piling Arthur's plates with his breakfast, in the palace kitchen and now, to hear what she actually thought about him..well..it hurt.

And it made him wonder, what if everyone else thought the same about him? What if, secretly, Gwen or Arthur..or even Gaius, thought that he was hideous, unattractive and gangly?

He mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Of course he was gangly. Even he knew that.

But then shame filled him. How could he think that of Gwen or Gaius?

But then..until recently he wouldn't have thought of Mary, who had been so sweet and kind to him, being capable of such thoughts, either, and look where that got him.

And then, there was Arthur..there was no chance that Arthur thought something positive about him. At least not conearning his appearance –

Suddenly, something hard and small hit Merlin hard in the back of the head , breaking him out of his thoughts with a start and a yelp of pain.

He turned atop his horse, furiously rubbing his head, to glare at that _prattish_ prince, only to stop dead.

Arthur and the other knights were all glaring and scowling at him, gesturing with erratic movements, as well as shouting for him to dismount.

He stared bewildered at them, realizing that they were all down from their horses and some of them where in the process of unsheating their swords.

For an alarming moment, he desperately thought back to the last minutes to remember if he'd done some accidental magic and they were preparing to skewer him when, suddenly, a crude roar came from the wrong direction – from behind him.

He turned and watched almost in slow motion as a long sword descended on him.

The fight was quick and brutal, a flurry of images that played in quick succession in front of his eyes.

The bandits were few, thankfully, evenly matched with Arthur's knights and, although they were skilled enough, the knights' swords felled them swiftly.

Arthur himself was slashing left and right, a furious scowl on his face and Merlin, although his mind was numb, managed to finally dismount and stare intently at the prince, ready to intervene should Arthur need him.

Luckily, he didn't and he watched as Arthur plunged his sword in a bandit's gut – trying to ignore the sickeningly wet, soft sound of flesh being impaled – and the fight was over.

The knights were all intact, although Lamorak appeared to have acquired a gash on his left cheek.

Suddenly, a furious shout broke the silence, making Merlin – and even some of the knights, although Merlin was sure they would never acknowledge it – jump.

Arthur was thunderous.

"WHAT, in the name of the Gods, where you THINKING?" He roared, gesturing with his bloody sword at Merlin, the latter flinching at the drops of blood which flew of the tip of the sword.

Merlin shook his head, bewildered, opening his mouth to speak but being interrupted by Arthur.

"NO, that's it, YOU WEREN'T, LIKE ALWAYS. DO WE HAVE TO SHOUT, _MER_LIN, TO GET YOUR ATTENTION? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING ABOUT, SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU COULDN'T SEE THE APPROACHING ATTACK OF THE BANDITS? NEVERENDING BLISS?!" The prince continued to rage, his voice echoing through the forest, causing birds to fly from their perch atop tree branches in a hurry.

The knights watched the scene impassively, while Merlin watched Arthur with horrified eyes, as the prince suddenly threw his sword to the ground and gave it a good kick in the pommel.

Merlin had never seen Arthur so angry before, not even with Valiant, when he'd shouted at Merlin that he'd humiliated him, and then sacked him.

Not to mention the fact that Arthur never treated his sword, or armour like that.

"You put all of our lives in danger, you bloody idiot. Those bloody ears of yours are useless, if they can't hear a horde of bandits trampling towards you. Then you just stood there, like a bloody _maiden_ atop your horse."

And although he wasn't shouting anymore, Arthur sneered his words in an ugly manner, and Merlin swallowed convulsively. He opened to mouth to – to say what? That he was sorry he hadn't seen and heard the approaching bandits?..but he didn't get the chance because Arthur's next words striked him like lightening.

"As of now, you, Merlin of Ealdor, are sacked from my service. I am tired of your insubordination and your impertinence. Stay clear of my sight." Arthur declared, picking up his sword from the ground and turning towards his horse.

The knights all turned as well, and Merlin, unable to move and paralyzed with a cold, tingling feeling in his chest and arms, stood and watched them depart, leaving him in the clearing, surrounded by dead or dying bandits.

How could his life have gone so wrong in such a short time?

Finally, Merlin scrambled on his horse and made his trembling way out of the clearing as well, shoulders slumped and heart heavy, never seeing the silent observer that was hidden behind a tree this whole time.

The stranger pursed his lips as he continued to slash away at the thick rope around his wrists with an old rusty blade.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank you all for the wonderful reviews and for favoring and following my humble little story.**

**I wish I could thank you all personally but I'm afraid I don't have the time right now, because I'm busy preparing to leave for uni in another country next month so you could imagine how chaotic everything is for me. Rest assured that I read and appreciate your reviews, and I truly enjoy them, after all, they feed our inspiration, isn't it so? Haha XD.**

**I don't own Merlin, obviously, unfortunately..**

**Some of you said - and I don't mind it, I appreciate it - that Merlin is slightly OC in this story, that he'd usually be more fiery and give Arthur as good as he got. While that's true, the story is set in the time frame of season II so he's still pretty young and naive. Also, I wanted my Merlin to be more whumpy, with self-esteem issues so I could then show his growth and development. **

**I hope you don't mind it.**

**I'd like to thank those who spotted and corrected my grammatical errors, as I said, English is my second language so beware of mistakes.**

**Thank you all for reviewing, and here's the next chapter. **

**Oh, and keep reviewing. It fuels my inspiration, haha.**

* * *

In the next weeks, Merlin's mood oscilated between terribly depressed and terribly angry.

He felt like paying the dragon a visit and showing him how his great destiny had played out. Sacked from his job. After everything he's done for Arthur and for what?

For not paying some attention on a stupid hunting trip he wasn't even supposed to be on?!

Well..alright, maybe as Arthur's manservant he was supposed to accompany his master on hunting trips, to carry his weapons and his kills.

But still, so maybe he should've payed more attention, but what had Arthur wanted him to do? Fight the bandits? He coldn't even hold a sword properly, never mind handling it.

He sighed as he thought about these things, while coming back from a trip to the lower town, to deliver some medicine to one of Gaius' patients.

Since he's been sacked he realized that he missed doing chores for Arthur. Anything was better than simply laying around, doing nothing.

He could only spend too much time around Gaius before the old physician's patience with his clumsiness and sulkiness ran out and he found himself kicked out of the chambers to 'Do something, Merlin. I have to concentrate on this new healing potion for the King, and I can't do that with you fluttering around this place and breaking my phials and potts'.

Sometimes he'd take his bag with him and go out in the woods surrounding Camelot, gathering herbs for Gaius and practicing his magic.

But even his magic refused to obey him.

Ever since he's left Arth - no, the prince's service, his magic had started to surge up unexpectedly and make him even more clumsy than usual.

It refused to obey some of his commands, and when it decided to comply, it did altogether the opposite of what he wanted.

But the thing that bothered Merlin the most was the fact that he missed Arthur. He missed the prat and everytime he saw him prancing around the castle, or training the knights as if he was better off without the warlock..he'd feel a pang in his chest.

And bitterness.

This situation was terribly similar to another one, that happened not too much time ago.

Cedric.

It seemed like Arthur lost no opportunity to show Merlin how little he valued the warlock, always quick to kick him aside whenever he felt like it.

And to think that Merlin was willing to give his life for the ungrateful brat. It hurt more than it should have.

And Merlin was angry.

Sad.

But angry as well.

He felt like screaming at Arthur, telling him how _stupid_ he was, if he thought he could survive his stupid quests and hunting trips, or whatever else he engaged on, without Merlin.

If it weren't for him, Arthur would be dead ten times over by now. If not more.

He felt like screaming at Gaius, telling him how he was wasting his life away, scrubbing at that _stupid_ leech tank or gathering herbs, or delivering potions. But then he'd feel guilty. It wasn't Gaius' fault that he was so useless at everything..

He was bored, depressed and angry. Angry at everyone and everything. Angry at himself.

* * *

One morning, he was just returning with a bucked of water to warm it and take a bath, when he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.

Arthur was teaching _Gwen_ how to fight.

He put the bucket down and watched Arthur's gentle adjustments of Gwen's fighting stance.

Gwen's laughter.

Arthur's twinkling eyes that could be seen even from a distance.

Arthur's careful movements, careful not to hurt Gwen.

His encouraging words.

Gwen's sure stance and firm grip on her sword.

He never pushed her, he never insulted her, he never hit her so hard, she'd have bruises even weeks later.

Unlike him.

He was teaching her. Truly teaching, not 'training', as if he really needed to train with a servant.

Gwen was a _maiden_ and Arthur was making sure she could _sit on a horse and do nothing_ – what he accused Merlin of doing – but that she could also join in the fight and _not die_, if she so desired.

Something he never did for _Mer_lin, and yet expected Merlin to do. How dare a peasant boy from a small village not know how to fight with a sword.

As if Gwen hadn't already proved she could handle a sword. As if Gwen hadn't had a blacksmith for a father.

He could feel anger boiling in his veins.

Merlin knew he was being mean, he knew that Gwen was his friend, but he couldn't help it.

Gwen had barely spoken to him, lately. She had abandoned him, like everybody else, and to think that the other two traitors thought she had a crush on him.

Ha.

Maybe this was Arthur's work as well. Maybe Arthur told Guinevere what happened, - how Merlin had _sat on a horse and done nothing_, putting Arthur's precious life in danger, as if Arthur himself was in danger, not Merlin who was on the stupid horse, doing nothing, in the first place – and now Gwen was angry at Merlin. That he almost cost her her lover's life.

Ha.

Well, he never asked for Arthur to save him! He shouldn't have stepped in front of Merlin and parried the bandit's sword that would've surely detached his head from his body.

If Arthur was so done with Merlin's insubordination, impertinence and everything else about Merlin, he should've let him die and be done with it.

Because Merlin was done with Arthur as well.

He'd show him how useless he could be.

With clenched teeth, he picked up his bucket and went on his way, steps firm and determined.

* * *

Later that evening, after he'd completed the little chores Gaius gave him, Merlin went on a trip to the lower town, to pick up something nice for his mother.

He missed her lately, and he knew, from the last letter she sent, that she'd lost the single piece of jewelry she owned; an exquisite little carving of a merlin bird – he was sure his name came from it – finely carved and hanging from an old black leather strip that had turned soft with time.

Many times in his childhood he'd watched her gaze out their little window, longingly, while fingering the little carving at her neck.

Somehow, he never gathered the courage to ask her about it. He was sure it hat something to do with his father, and if at first he'd been very curious, over time he decieded it didn't matter.

His mother never spoke about his father, it was obvious how much it hurt her, so he decided to let it go.

He searched the merchants' stalls until he finally found it. It was a little - very little, in fact, it was almost minuscule – topaz dragon, wings outstretched as if in flight, and neck and head pointing up, as if to the sky.

It was charming but simple, and although gemstones were usually very expensive, this one was so small it wasn't that much.

And, damn it, Hunith deserved something from her only son. If Merlin was worthless at everything else, in everyone's opinion, he could at least be a good son for the woman who raised him, alone, with the burden of hiding his unruly magic.

He pocketed the little dragon, carefully and then searched for something to hang it on, when he was hit by a peculiar feeling.

Like being watched.

Merlin turned around, ignoring the merchant's scolding to make way for other clients.

He looked around the small stalls, trying to see who was staring at him. It was hard, seeing as it very crowded and Merlin felt a surge of irritation.

It someone had seen him buy the little gemstone, they should know that Merlin would rip their throat out before letting them steal it. It was for his mother!

He turned back to the stall and finally decided on a brown leather cord, thinking that it complimented the golden colour of the topaz.

He pocketed that as well and turned back towards his and Gaius' chambers, suspicion hanging heavily around him and a little voice in the back of his head which said that maybe it was something worse than a thief wanting to steal his new purchases.

It was his old paranoia, that someone had seen him practicing magic. He scolded himself for getting careless lately, doing magic in the open, in the forest outside the city.

But then, maybe he was only exaggerating.

Maybe it had been only his imagination and no one had been following him at all.

Suspicion aside..Merlin decided that everything was enough.

He had always managed to get right back up from where he'd been forced to the ground by the bullies in Ealdor, he wasn't going to let a bully of a prince wipe the floor with him anymore.

If Arthur wanted Merlin to know how to fight, but didn't want to teach him, that was fine.

Merlin will teach himself. Starting tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Merlin, obviously.**

**See A/N at the end.**

**Oh, and thank you all wonderful guys for reviewing, favoring and following my story. I really appreciate it.**

* * *

Bright rays filled Merlin's small chamber, finally making waking up unavoidable for the young man in question.

He yawned and slowly sat up, stretching his body and rotating his clenched fists which felt mellow with sleep. He thought of today's plans and anticipation swirled in his stomach. Or maybe that was just hunger.

He could hear Gaius in the main chamber so he finally dressed in his usual blue tunic, brown shabby trousers and red neckerchief, and then made his way out.

Gaius raised his eyes at Merlin, from his plate and gestured for Merlin to sit and have breakfast as well.

"Morning Gaius. What's for breakfast this morning?" Merlin chirped sitting down, facing Gaius at the small dining table.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at Merlin's unusually merry mood this morning. Especially after the last cloudy weeks. Something had changed.

"What we usually have, I expect, Merlin. Porridge."

"Mhm, lovely." Merlin smiled, stuffing a spoonful in his mouth and chewing quickly.

"Say, Gaius, are you in need of some herbs this morning?" Merlin asked between chewing, ignoring Gaius' raising eyebrow. He needed an excuse to go to the woods. But maybe Gaius won't have need of him today.

'No, Merlin. In fact, I won't be needing herbs for at least two weeks, the way you've been piling my work table with them, these last weeks!" the old man explained, a wry smile on his face as he sat up with his finished bowl.

Merlin startled and turned around to look at the physician's work table, to find out that indeed, withering herbs of different kinds were piled together, almost occupying half of the table.

Gaius watched him with his raised eyebrow.

"Huh." Merlin turned to him and gave him a sheepish smile.

" What has been going on, Merlin?" Gaius finally asked his ward, sure now that Merlin was on his way back to normal.

Merlin pursed his lips as he ate his last spoonful, chewing slowly. He didn't want to have to reveal his embarrassing thoughts to Gaius, as ridiculous as that sounded.

Merlin had always been able to confess everything to Gaius, but this was just too personal and he couldn't see how his old mentor could help him. As mean as that may sound, Merlin didn't want reassuring thoughts, nor pity.

Besides, he didn't want to burden Gaius with his problems. He was sure he was already giving the old physician enough headaches, what with forcing him to hide a secret magic user right under the king's nose.

So he shook his head and finally relinquished his dirty dishes to Gaius.

"Nothing, Gaius. I've just been feeling a little bored, what with the unusual free time since I've been put out of Arthur's service." He explained, hoping Gaius won't ask more.

Gaius twitched his eyebrow at Merlin's clear avoidance of telling the truth.

" Tell me, Merlin, what are you going to do about the prince?" asked the old man, crossing his arms.

Merlin's expression sliped into a scowl, crossing his arms as well.

"Well, what do you want me to do? Force Arthur to have me as a manservant. Ha!" Merlin snapped, giving a sarcastig half laugh at the end, before continuing. " And I can't be seen following the prat around, now can I? I'll just..keep an eye on things from the distance." Merlin finished, watching Gaius as the physician analyzed him as well.

Gaius went to the dining table to finish taking away the remains of their breakfast and Merlin waited, knowing his mentor wasn't finished.

" Things will return to normal soon, Merlin. I think you should just apologize to Arthur and I'm sure he'll be willing to take you as his manservant once again."

Merlin gaped at Gaius, stuttering for a moment.

"I'm _not_ going to grovel at Arthur's feet to have my job back. Besides, I'm much better as I am now. I finally have time to practice some magic." He said, turning back to his room to collect his bag, ignoring Gaius' knowing look at his lie.

" Whatever you say, my boy."

Merlin half-scowled as he passed Gaius on his way to the door, but before he closed it, Gaius called him back.

Merlin half-turned giving his mentor a questioning look.

"Don't get too careless in this magic practicing of yours." The old man warned him, eyebrow arched.

He gave a last nod and went on his way. Which was down towards the dungeons. It was time to pay an old _friend_ a visit.

While on his way, Merlin mused about some things. The truth was that Merlin hadn't actually talked to Arthur since the whole incident on the hunting trip.

He'd seen him around the castle and the training grounds, as well as in the lower town a couple of times, but he always avoided him, encouraged by the fact that the prince seemed fine with how things were.

More than fine, in fact. And that rankled Merlin.

Admitedly, he should have gone to Arthur to apologize, or at least, demand an explanation, but his stubbornness held him back.

Besides, he didn't think he did something so atrocious he needed to apologize.

The sacking came out of nowhere..especially when he'd thought that they were finally beginning to become a sort of..friends.

So Merlin acknowledged, in his thoughts, that the entire deal was somehow ridiculous, and that he should've contacted Arthur.

But he felt it was too late now, and Merlin was determined to change before that happened.

If Merlin ever had a chance of getting his job back – which he really doubted – he wanted to do it proudly, he wanted to show Arthur that he was worth serving him – again, as ridiculous or unnecessary as that sounded.

Uther saddled them both with what he thought was a 'gift' to Merlin, being Arthur's servant..but now, Merlin wanted Arthur to take him back as a servant – maybe – out of his own accord.

Finally, after getting past the guards – an easier feat than one may think – he jogged down the stairs to the dragon's cave.

The Great Dragon was already perched on his rock, an expectant look on his reptile face.

Merlin pursed his lips as he stared in the vicinity of the dragon's head.

"Well?"

"Well what, young warlock?"

Merlin huffed, annoyed. "You know very well what! Don't tell me you don't know what happened!"

The dragon raised an eyebrow – really, how could dragons raise eyebrows – and cocked his head while loweing it at the same time.

" Indeed. It seems like your Destiny is quickening, young warlock."

Merlin scrunched up his face, confused. What was the great lizard going on about, now.

"Uhm..it seems you're slightly misinformed." He spoke slowly. "In fact, the complete opposite. I'm no longer in Arthur's service. He sacked me for no reason." He continued, crossing his arms.

The dragon gave a little chuckle and Merlin felt irritation beginning to form.

"Look, I had a nice morning, I don't want your cryptic remarks to blast it all away, so why don't you explain the, I'm sure, captivating reason before that little snicker right there, so I could go on my way and you could do..whatever it is you do in this place." Merlin ranted quickly, eyes narrowed and arms still crossed.

Speaking of which, he wondered what the dragon _really_ did when he wasn't thoroughly confusing Merlin with his annoying riddles.

Huh, maybe bat hunting. He suppressed a chuckle, despite his irritation.

"Tell me, young warlock, hasn't your magic been behaving peculiary, lately?"

Merlin uncrossed his arms, brows furrowed. How could the dragon know this?

"Yeah. I don't understand..what does this have to do with anything?"

"Everything. The time has come for harmony, Merlin. Everything that happened and everything that is going to happen..it marks the beginning of your destiny." The dragon smirked – again..how could dragons smirk – and Merlin's face grew even more confused.

Maybe sitting in a cave for more than twenty years has finally began to make its effect known. The dragon was getting nuts.

"What on Earth are you talking about, I thought my destiny has already began, what with me saving Arthur left and right, and what's this talk about harmony – hey WAIT where are you going?" Merlin ranted and then his eyes widened when he saw the telltale signs of the dragon preparing to make his – no doubt, what he thought dramatic – escape. "You can't just say things like that and take off, you…you annoying old lizard!"

But his shouts echoed around the cave, along with the swishing sound of the dragon's departing wings and the clincking noise of the heavy chain which kept the creature prisoner beneath Uther's castle.

Merlin yelled and in a fit of anger, kicked a small rock over the edge, panting heavily as he glared at nothing.

* * *

Some time later, after Merlin had calmed down a bit, he found himself making his way out the gates of the city, to the outlying woods.

He put a great effort in trying not to think about the _stupid_ and obviously, insane, dragon's words, and for the most part, he managed.

He promised himself nothing was going to distract his attention from what he set out to do.

So he stopped in the usual place where he liked to relax a bit and practice his magic. It was a very small clearing, surrounded by thick, tall bushes and old oak trees.

Dropping his backpack to the ground, he turned to admire the place, like he did everytime he came here.

Which lately, has been a lot.

The grass was tall and cushiony, perfect for laying down and having a nap.

But today he wasn't going to have a nap, or play around with his magic.

So he turned around and searched for something he was going to need and, after a few moments, gave a victorious shout.

It was perfect, not too long and not too short either. Just like the ones Arthur gave to the new knights.

He waved the stick in the air a few times and nodded, satisfied.

"This would do."

Merlin took a deep breath and made his way to the center of the small meadow and after another deep breath – lips pursed and eyes narrowed – he fell into a basic fighting stance. The one he's seen Arthur and the knights do.

A small voice in the back of his mind, suspiciously sounding like a certain prat, told him that he looked _ridiculous_.

Some animal gave a weird sound, somewhere nearby. He could have sworn it sounded like a choked laugh and he scowled. Even the animals thought he was pathetic.

He shook his head, annoyed, and raised the stick, arms leveled with his chin, slightly leaning towards the left.

And then stopped.

What now?

He mentally searched trough the images of the training sessions he had witnessed but they weren't clear. Only knights waving sticks around.

He took a step forward with his left leg, still half crouched in his 'fighting stance' and angled his hands towards the right, making a slashing gesture towards the left then.

Again, that weird sound.

Merlin groaned, exasperated and went back to a normal position.

"Shut up you stupid beast!" he shouted at the woods, like a crazy person.

Already, sweat was beginning to make itself known.

This was impossible, how was he going to do this?

He turned around in a circle, dragging the stick trough the ground as he looked around.

He needed to..to maybe see himself.

"That's it!" That's what he needed. How could he correct his stance, if he couldn't see it in the first place?!

But then his shoulders slumped. And how was he going to do _that._

"I need a looking glass."

The sound.

"What ARE you? A stupid bird, probably. You certainly possess the brains!" He snarked almost absentmindedly as he mused about where he could find a big enough looking glass.

Gaius had one in his chamber. The one which he spent his self-loathing sessions in front of, actually.

Hmm.

Sure, it was cracked and so dirty you barely managed to see yourself but, oh well.

Only a small problem now. How could he take it, without Gaius knowing? That was impossible. Gaius may be an old man, but he wasn't _that_ old yet.

He huffed, annoyed and threw the stick to the ground, pacing to and fro through the meadow, one arm holding the other by the elbow, while his hand scratched his chin.

Maybe he could ask Gwen..no.

No. That path lay awkward questions and, no doubt, Arthur finding out about what he was doing.

Plus, the prat might just think he was right about Merlin being a _girl_.

And even if he found a mirror, how was he going to bring it to the meadow, whithout making a spectacle of himself in front of the whole of Camelot?

For the Gods' sake, this was already proving to be a completely infuriating task!

He angrily bent down and snatched the stick from where it lay, tauntingly, in the grass.

He slashed hazardly throught the air a few times, breath picking up and then he gave up, shoulders slumping.

It was no use.

"Right, enough training for today."

He threw the stick to the ground again and made his way to his satchel, picking it up and making his way back to Camelot.

Maybe he should've put more thought into this.

Merlin wasn't giving up.

No.

He just needed to do more research into this whole sword training business.

* * *

**A/N: I'm a little bit ..upset, you could say, because I've been told that the part where Merlin's magic doesn't want to obey him anymore because he's not by Arthur's side is the worst bit someone ever read in a fic. I'm not going to change it, because actually if you've payed attention you'd know that I mentioned that Merlin's magic was unruly even as a child..always trying to take over his body. In fact, only in the last chapter I mentioned the fact that Hunith had to take care of him plus his unruly magic..yeah, maybe it's far fetched but it actually leads somewhere..Then again, this is not a 100% rendition of Merlin from the show, ok? Every writer takes the characters and reshape them, adds to them, or takes or etc. Plus, I mentioned before that it's my first story..I'm new at trying to grasp their personality, just bear with me. Maybe it's far too AU because Merlin's been able to use magic since birth, but that doesn't mean he was always so very good at it..not in my fic. **

**I'm not trying to say that I can't accept criticism, but "the worst bit I've ever read" is a little insulting..I don't like flames. All the same, I'd like to thank that guest reader for the review, I hope the fact that I mentioned all these things won't upset you.**

**Rant over, I hope you all liked this chapter. I had fun writing it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for taking so much time to update, I've just been a little busy collecting all kinds of stupid documents for uni. I'll update much quicker from now on, seeing as my Gather-impossible-useless-documents quest is almost over. **

**This chapter is much shorter but from the next chapter, action will pick up. **

* * *

The following days found Merlin in a constant creeping around the castle and the training grounds, and, most often than not, with a scowl on his face.

Why couldn't Arthur and the knights _slow_ down? Why did they had to move so quickly. It was almost as if they knew what he was trying to do, and they were doing it out of spite.

He wouldn't put it past Arthur.

What was even more annoying, was the fact that these knights were more advanced. They weren't beginners. And that meant that Arthur didn't take it easy – not that he ever did – and didn't spent too much time to explain things because they knew immediately what they did wrong.

They simply moved, turned, parried, ducked. Merlin could barely keep up.

Add the fact that he was too far – he couldn't risk Arthur or the knights seeing him, that would be humiliating, not to mention Arthur may think he was _missing _him, which was certainly _not_ true – and the helmet muffled Arthur's voice, thus he couldn't even hear Arthur's corrections.

It was maddening.

Then, there came another reason for his constant scowling.

" Your face will be stuck like that, my boy, if you keep frowning." Gaius had said, a small smirk at the corner of his lips, to which Merlin scoffed and smiled a little. Before his face scrunched up again. Gaius shook his head.

His magic was getting even more out of control. If in the past, it helped him be graceful, now it hindered him. He stumbled more than usual, he broke more things – to Gaius' exasperation – he bumped into, practically, everyone – though, thank the Gods, not the King..or at least not yet.

And, most of all…it simply _refused_ to obey.

"_Droi at iâ_" Merlin murmured, eyes flashing gold at the bucket full of water.

He had discovered a spell which allowed him to make a looking glass. It wasn't too complex, but it had a couple of steps that must be followed, otherwise it wouldn't work.

Well, right now, Merlin was certain that it wouldn't work altogether, seeing as the bucket shook ominously three times before expoding in an array of water all over himself and his chamber.

"MERLIN! What did you do now you foolish boy?!" Gaius scolded, Merlin heard his voice getting closer before the door to his chamber opened and Gaius attacked him with his wiggling eyebrow.

No, it seemed like practicing magic in Camelot was getting riskier and riskier. His magic was going insane, along with the rest of him.

* * *

A little while later, after the incident with the bucket, Merlin was, once again, exiting the city and making his way to his meadow.

He had decided that he was going to just imitate the knights' movements until he got it right. Plus, he was sure he was going to finally get it and, if not, he'd simply create his own style.

_And_ he was going to regain control of his magic. He just had to practice more.

It was slightly cloudy and the wind was fluttering the leaves everywhere.

He picked his practice stick from where he left it, near the biggest oak in the clearing, and sighed.

As fixated as he was on learning how to fight with a sword, he knew that it was his magic that was the biggest problem now. He'd ignored it, recently, more focused on his fighting – well, lack of – skills, but his subcounscious, as well as Gaius, kept jabbing him about his magic. What if something happened, and he'd be forced to use his magic to save Prince Prat? How would he accomplish that, when he couldn't even freeze a bucket of water?

He groaned, annoyed. For the first time ever, Merlin was furious with his magic. He just _couldn't_ possibly understand why it was acting like this. Furthermore, his magic had calmed down since he came to Camelot. He'd learned more about it, with Gaius' help, or simply by his own experience when saving Arthur's life. He'd gained more control of it and there'd been less magical mishaps than a few months earlier, before leaving Ealdor, when it was still difficult to control it.

And maybe it was because of the nature of his anxiousness, that he felt that peculiar feeling again. Of being watched.

He turned around, stick forgotten in his hands, eyeing the border of oaks that surround the clearing. But there was nothing. Maybe it was only the wind raising goosebumps on his skin, nothing else.

Suddenly, he threw the stick upwards, as far as he could and stepped back – in case it wouldn't work, it wouldn't do to knock himself out– eyes flashing gold as he focused on catching it with his magic. He first wanted to exercise with his magic a bit, and then practice with his swo – stick!

But the piece of wood which had began its descending suddenly flew to the far right of the clearing, hitting a tree with such force that it snapped itself in two with a loud crack.

Merlin's face scrunched up in anger and he kicked at the grass, yelling.

How was this _possible_. How could his magic screw this up, when he'd been catching things with it, successfully, since he'd been four years old?!

It was outrageous.

" I think you should stop before you cause some unfortunate damage to yourself!." A dry voice echoed in in meadow.

It's funny how sometimes, you lose yourself to anger. It shrouds you in a red bubble of fury and violent thoughts, and then something happens that bursts that bubble and you feel disoriented, as if it was another person that felt that and not you.

Merlin couldn't even remember why he'd been so furious a few moments ago. It didn't matter and it paled in comparison to the cold grip of fear in his heart. Fear that spread all over his body, causing his limbs to lock in place and the hair on the back of his head and on his arms, to stand up.

For a few moments, neither him, nor the owner of the voice said anything, and even the wind seemed to have ceased his restlessness. Absurdly, Merlin's glazed eyes focused on a tree, wondering if he'd find the falling leaves frozen in mid-air.

This was a nightmare come true. The biggest fear of his life.

"_You – stop – unfortunate – damage…"_His mind desperately tried to focus on the words that kept echoing in his head, but he couldn't grasp them. He couldn't even get their meaning.

Merlin searched in his head for their definitions; _simple, _ridiculous words like 'you' and 'stop', but he couldn't understand them.

Another part of his mind tried, unsuccessfully to recognize the timbre of the voice, to match it to a name, or a face.

It was in vain because every name and face that came to him was Arthur, _Arthur's, Arthur, Arthur knows!_.

Almost without his permission, his body turned itself in a jerky movement, to face the person.

His mouth dropped open and his breath hitched twice before his knees gave away and he propelled downwards.

Darkness enveloped his mind long before his head hit the the ground, but before his unseeing eyes closed, he mouthed a name. Arthur.

An exasperated grunt followed a moment of stunned silence , and then the wind picked up its pace once again.


End file.
